To Be Human
by Laryna6
Summary: Experimenting on yourself is not safe. If Frankenstein's first test subjects were mutants and he was trying to imitate their powers, what if he managed to copy them a little too well? Centuries later, a red-eyed human who can't bear the touch of the sun enters the manor of a noble who tells himself that gazing out his window at the sunlit world is enough.
1. Chapter 1

_Experimenting on yourself is the direct opposite of safe. Frankenstein's about as rational when it comes to protecting people as_ Rai _is. Those two, I swear._

 _This is an AU where Frankenstein_ wasn't _able to mess around with a kind of power that turns humans into crazy mutants and escape completely unscathed.  
_

 _I posted an alternate scene from this AU in the Elegance Under Pressure collection - it's not how things went in this 'verse, as you'll see._

* * *

Grinding too-sharp teeth behind his mask, he scowled. With the Central Order Knights pursuing him like this, it was hard to find somewhere to conceal himself during the day. Since he'd taken in Dark Spear, their energy delighted in ripping holes in his gloves when there was a lapse in his control, and keeping track of a score of nobles at a time was distracting. It had been too long since he'd managed to get one alone, but, "The prideful nobles… they'll never think to look me here, in Lukedonia." There should be civilian nobles here, he could find one and wipe their memory. Then he'd have a guard during the day, as well as more time until the next episode. He had too much of that corrupt, mutated energy in his aura right now.

"You're right," he heard from behind him, and whirled. "Not many would have thought to find you here."

Damn.

Then they gave their names, and the Kertia clan leader just _appeared_ right next to him. Revealing that he knew they were clan leaders stunned them enough to give him a bit of time to think, although the effect wasn't good enough with his smirk concealed behind the mask. Tinted lenses hid his eyes, to conceal that his own had long since turned red.

The physical symptoms got worse the longer he went without bite anything to earth the charge. Nobles worked best, because he didn't have to worry about infecting them with this energy and turning them into mutants as well – and it was painful to kill an animal he'd turned, the energy bonded him to it – but no. A creature as powerful as these clan leaders weren't going to just hold still so he could bite them.

He stunned them with his words on what their kind had wrought among humans, but eventually the battle began, the Kertia clan leader attacking.

He was outmatched, but he was beginning to get a feel for how the noble fought and devise strategies.

When the mask was knocked from his face.

It was useless to try to hide his blue skin, so he faced them squarely.

Both of them were shocked, but only his current opponent was stunned, jumping back to appear next to Gejutel. "Are you truly a human?" Gejutel examined the red-eyed man. "Did you somehow turn into a noble? A mutant! But I don't sense that anyone else has a hold on you."

"And no noble will ever get control over me, over my dead body." He bared his fangs at them. "Why so surprised by what your kind has wrought? Humans can't fight you, so I had to _lower_ myself to becoming like you!" Scum like you. "You hunger for our blood out of greed and the desire to control us – it's fair for me to shed your blood, isn't it, when so many humans have bled for your negligence!" He wouldn't feel guilt about hungering for their blood, when they had fed on so many humans.

And of _course_ it was only after seeing that he wasn't 'only' a human but partook of some of their nature that the younger one admitted he would need his soul weapon to deal with him.

Frankenstein had already gone too long without taking a noble's blood. Letting Dark Spear's energies of destruction into his body, when it was already hard-pressed to fight off what the warped noble power within him was trying to do to him…

He expected to die. To fall to Dark Spear, to unleash a mindless, rampaging thing on their island, the way they'd unleashed so many on human lands.

It was Ragar's words that woke him, that reminded him of his refusal to lower himself before them, to let them look down on humanity.

Not that he would ever be grateful to a damn noble.

* * *

 _Why isn't there anyone here?_ he raged, stalking through the manor. There should be a large staff, and that might have made it difficult to find a deserted corner but he was past the point where he could truly care about that. Especially with so much noble power hanging in the air, power and soul leaked from his prey and it maddened him like blood in the water.

He already almost died once tonight.

" _There has to be_ someone _who lives here, they couldn't – wouldn't – have evacuated this place, surely? Not over a mere human!"_ If he counted as a human anymore. In the human world, he would absolutely be a threat worth evacuating over, but to arrogant nobles? Can't their superiority complex work in his favor for once?

Finally he heard steps coming towards him in the darkness, and he stopped only to get a look at the noble.

He _looked_ like a defenseless youth, simply-clad, but he had an impressive poker face. Or perhaps it was just a tired one. They regarded each other, Frankenstein trying his best not to be obvious he was waiting for a moment to strike. "That shirt…" the noble said finally, ignoring the blue-grey skin on Frankenstein's face.

" _My apologies, let me return it to you,"_ was what Frankenstein meant to say. Use that as an excuse to take a few steps forward into striking range, but the noble's lips remained parted after he said those words, leaving the sentence hanging there, and that uncertainty signaled weakness and _Frankenstein was so empty_.

Worse than empty, after letting Dark Spear flow through him – he heard their voices but they _clawed_ at him. He knew he needed to use the blood to get control of this noble long enough to make them forget being bitten and make them think that Frankenstein has always worked here, but it had been a long night and he was so _tired_ in a way no sleep but an eternal one can cure and this soul before him was so quiet and lonely and shy instead of fighting him when he couldn't resist anymore and lunged.

 _I work here_ , he remembered to push at the noble's mind, and then he slumped against their body, fangs still in that neck because this noble was _powerful_ and he couldn't risk it wearing off. _A bed, or a couch_ … politeness might keep them from searching the bedroom of a sleeping noble, especially because the nobles that slept regularly were the young ones.

* * *

They found the mutant with Sir Cadis Etrama di Raizel, in the Noblesse's sitting room.

It was unusual to see the Noblesse _sitting_ , but it was alarming to see the mutant on top of him. Biting the Noblesse's neck. Gejutel felt Ragar's shock, and had to veto the impulse to cover the younger clan leader's eyes. Ragar had reached his age of majority and needed to be aware these things happen so he was properly motivated to send anyone who contemplated them to eternal sleep.

"Sir Cadis Etrama di Raizel," Gejutel greeted him, after seeing that the Noblesse did not look distressed, merely doing his elegant best to ignore that someone was doing something highly inelegant.

While Ragar followed his example, Gejutel gave Frankenstein a hard look. The mutant's red eyes were closed, and if Gejutel recalled correctly if a human was breathing that slowly they were likely asleep.

"He works here," Cadis Etrama di Raizel told them, after nodding to acknowledge Ragar's greeting.

It was only Gejutel's millennia of experience with the Lord that allowed him to cough and say, "He _works_ here?" Making it very clear that he knew the Noblesse had just said something that was not true. This was the same Raizel that had no sense of direction, but… Well, they _had_ a properly elegant Noblesse and look how _that_ turned out.

"Yes," Raizel said firmly.

"Be that as it may, the Lord has requested his presence," Gejutel said, ignoring Ragar's confusion. He took a step closer and it was an effort not to react as the mutant woke up, wrenched its fangs from the Noblesse's neck and turned to _hiss_ at him, as though a clan leader was supposed to be impressed by glowing red eyes and bared fangs. All they meant to him was a loss of composure – not that Gejutel hadn't done the same when he'd lost his own composure, but he didn't have to admit it.

Ragar looked to him instead of making his own display right back, because Gejutel had been raising Ragar right (not that there was much he could do about Ragar's nature, but he was doing his best). If Urokai was here he'd be disgracing Zarga with all the noise he'd be making. Gejutel supposed he was fortunate he was ordered to look after the Kertia – that clan understood _quiet_.

Perhaps satisfied that the two of them had acknowledged his authority when neither of them bothered to challenge him, the mutant made a pleased sort of growl and returned to Sir Raizel's neck.

Gejutel's eyes narrowed slightly in anger once the mutant was no longer looking at him. It was disgraceful. Earlier, Frankenstein was able to talk, to fight effectively, to trick not just Ragar but Gejutel. To see him reduced to this… Yes, _this_ human did it to himself, but if he was telling the truth, if nobles were responsible for other humans having their hard-won elegance stripped from them then any right-thinking noble would be enraged. Or any right-thinking human. Enraged enough to forfeit their own elegance and become… _this_ if it was the only way to gain the strength to act in accordance with their will to protect?

"He is not well," Raizel said, knowing he was stating an immediately obvious fact. Healthy humans didn't have pale blue-grey skin. "I will bring him to the Lord when he is recovered."

"Ah," Gejutel thought, closing his eyes for a moment. Of course the Noblesse would view mutants as an effect of nobles losing their honor. So was this evidence for Frankenstein's claims? If Raizel was taking responsibility for this, he hoped the Noblesse wouldn't spend power trying to cure the human. "We will report to the Lord," he told Cadis Etrama di Raizel, bowing and turning to go. The Lord was the only one who might be able to intervene and convince the Noblesse not to spend his life, even if he did not have the best luck convincing the stubborn Cadis Etrama di Raizel of anything.

Gejutel doubted that this mutant would _ever_ recover from what he'd done to himself in his quest for power.

* * *

He woke up when the sunlight coming in through the two huge, glass-paned windows crept up high enough to hit his bare forearm.

The smell of singed human flesh was… distinctive. To someone who had to bury or burn too many dead. It was one of the frequencies in sunlight that did it – thank goodness the same frequency wasn't found in firelight, even if his modifications included night vision.

He moved his body out of the path of the too-bright light, fumbling in his shirt pocket for the glasses he wore to protect his eyes, which were far more sensitive than his skin, only to find there was no pocket. His spare glasses with the special lenses must have been destroyed with his shirt. He sighed and pressed a hand to his face because of _course_ they were. He should be used to this by now. It was like the universe simply refused to allow anything he made to remain intact for more than a month.

Eyes firmly shut to prevent the sunlight from getting in and damaging delicate tissues (or worse, the attached nerves), he hummed under his breath for a moment to get a picture of the room and try to find an interior door.

He was aware he was lying on top of a noble prisoner, but his standards had fallen in the past several months, with the constant hunt, and thankfully he could just wipe their memory. Mind-controlling one of the Central Order Knights to keep a lookout was the only way he'd been able to get any sleep while the hunt went on.

With a rustling noise, the room dimmed. He froze, risking opening his eyes but there wasn't anyone near the curtains to close them.

"You are still wearing my shirt," he heard. He could feel the noble's hesitance to say it, but he absolutely understood why the noble felt he _had_ to point it out. Nice shirts didn't grow on trees, and this house was so bare that if it weren't for the fact his interrogations revealed that nobles didn't have a currency or the concept of loans, he'd think it had been stripped of everything worth money by creditors. That sometimes happened when a family fell into poverty, after running up debts trying to maintain their former standard of living (and an upper-class family had to, to remain noble and have any chance of escaping ruin).

"I'm sorry," he said, before he realized that he was apologizing to a noble. "I don't have anything else to wear."

He jerked back, then froze, looking down at himself, when the fabric of his clothing began to move. Eyes wide, he watched it change form into his familiar clothing – even gloves to protect his hands from the sunlight and hide his claws. He reached up when he felt glasses over his eyes.

 _He needed to take a blood sample from this noble_. No more fighting in rags when he was forced to destroy his possessions so they couldn't fall into enemy hands and was attacked before he could establish a base and make new clothing, no more… His face fell slightly when he remembered he'd need a lab for that and he was presumably still on Lukedonia. "Where am I?" he asked.

"My house," the noble said.

If the noble was being so helpful, then the mind control must have worked and he didn't remember Frankenstein biting him, thought the human belonged here. Good. "Did the clan leaders come last night?" He couldn't quite ask 'what happened' and get an accurate account with this noble's memory tampered with, not unless trying to recall events made the noble dig up the memory of Frankenstein's attack.

"I told them that you work here now."

Good, that was more evidence the mind control had taken despite his exhausted condition.

"They wished to bring you to the Lord, but he is…" The noble sighed. "You should not have to deal with him until you are well."

"So they'll return today, now that I've healed?" And was in condition to answer questions? Damn.

The black-haired noble shook his head. "You are not well," he said, looking at Frankenstein's face. He'd covered every other patch of skin on his body, but what he'd become was still visible there. "I told them that I would bring you to the Lord when you are well."

Frankenstein snorted. "So never, then."

He saw a small frown, could read worry for him on the noble's aura. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Cadis Etrama di Raizel."

"Why is your house like this?"

"It was a gift." From the sigh, it seemed as though he knew how extravagant this building was for one person.

Just to be sure, Frankenstein asked, "Does anyone else live here?"

The noble shook his head, then frowned, looking at Frankenstein.

"What?"

"You said that you work here now."

"I suppose yes, that would mean I live here." Not that he intended to stay in servants' quarters – not that this house had an area with smaller rooms for servants – but room and board was an expected part of the benefits of working in a manor like this.

…He _did_ need a base of operations. A base of operations in Lukedonia itself would be perfect if he could keep the damn nobles from stealing his research. He supposed he could refrain from doing any research useful to them – focus on learning how to use Dark Spear, because it seemed he was going to need it in order to kill clan leaders. He also needed to find the ones responsible for backing the Union.

This building had plenty of space. It also had a noble he could mind-control, so he'd have something to bite on hand when the power built up too much. It was interesting that the mutants' urge to take the blood of others came from the need to get rid of the corrupt noble power that was inside them by channeling it into some other poor soul, but although gaining better control over the energies within him _helped_ , eventually he would need to take something's blood. He'd tried once to dispose of the energy by letting Dark Spear have it, since having a piece of him might make them happy, but… not again. Especially in Lukedonia. He couldn't afford to be helpless, even temporarily.

He'd pick a part of this mansion for his lab, then take Raizel's blood for his research and ingest some of it so he could mind-control the noble into forgetting about that part of his house and staying out of Frankenstein's lab. Right.

Presentable clothing in _seconds_ , even protective gear! Perhaps he should ask Raizel to conjure up one of the masks he wore for when he _had_ to operate in daylight. No, he'd scout the surrounding area once he'd recovered a little more. Right now, he was weak enough he was having a hard time fighting off the impulse to just sleep until the sun went down and he didn't have to worry about the light-beyond-violet disrupting his energies anymore. He needed them under control so they'd _heal_ him instead of just damaging his body further. Or transforming it.

He smiled bitterly at himself. Maybe he should just go to sleep. Until he healed up he was helpless against a clan leader – being caught sleeping wouldn't make any difference. If he took some fresh blood from Raizel, he could be sure the mind control wouldn't wear off while Frankenstein was asleep.

Decision made, he took one of the handkerchiefs saturated with a disinfectant out of one of his coat's waterproof pockets and reached out to take Raizel's hand. Turning it over, he swabbed down the noble's wrist. Noble skin was normally sterile, but biting into someone's skin was such a disgusting thought. Cleaning it off himself instead of trusting in noble powers let him feel a bit better about it, at least.

His fangs were already extended: they had been since he let his eyes focus on the vein in that delicate wrist.

He _did not let himself shudder in front of a noble_ , but he hated this feeling. Vile, disgusting, like a street strewn with animal feces because the Union suppressed even his disease research to make it easier for them to spread plagues. He couldn't avoid touching it, or scrub himself down afterwards. It was his own body that made his skin crawl with utter revulsion. But he needed the power.

He wanted to be human again? _Dark Spear_ wanted to be human again. There were so many out there in danger of being killed by the mutants or worse. It was so selfish of him to want to get rid of this power, spend however many decades it took researching an alternate method.

He forced himself to bite down almost as punishment for his selfish desires. Holding the blood in his mouth for now, he scrubbed down the noble's wrist again – the solution on the cloth would help the wound heal as well as disinfecting it. It tasted _awful_ , but it was well worth it.

One would have thought that blood would be more effective held in the mouth, closer to the brain, but he got the best results after swallowing it. Perhaps because it was closer to the core of his energies? Now that he had a channel into the noble's mind, he looked up, meeting the noble's red eyes with his own. Eye contact helped mind control.

Not enough, it seemed.

This power! "Are you the Lord?" he demanded, enraged. Had he delivered himself to the Lord of the Nobles?!

The noble's eyes widened with alarm. "I decline," he said quickly, then hurried to hide the alarm under noble elegance.

"You _decline?"_

"I cannot be Lord. There is… something else I must be."

"And that something else?"

Raizel looked hesitant. "It is forbidden for any but the clan leaders to know of the Noblesse, but you are not a noble."

Damn right he wasn't.

"It is my duty to protect the honor of the nobles."

"Well you're doing a terrible job."

Eyes downcast, the noble nodded.

Well, that was unexpected. "You aren't going to claim that mutants are all the fault of human greed for power?"

The noble stared at him.

"That's what Gejutel claimed."

That earned him a frown – not at his transparent attempt to see if this would get the clan leader in trouble, but at the fact someone would think that.

Frankenstein returned his attention to the blood link before it could vanish – with nobles, he always lost it after his stomach acid finished destroying their blood. He hadn't been able to change Raizel's memories or affect his will, but he could understand how he'd missed that last night, when Raizel's mind was willing to accept the thoughts he sent it, and comply with his orders, without putting up a fight. The noble was powerful, but soft, sad, lonely.

Was he blaming himself for his inability to do his job? Not that Frankenstein could throw stones, when he hadn't been able to put a stop to the nobles and their quislings. He was _trying_ , but trying didn't matter to the dead, which was why he couldn't blame Dark Spear for hating him. At all.

"You'll have to teach me how you made this," he told the noble – Raizel – while looking under the sleeve of his coat at the shirt underneath. Even got the lace right. So unless Raizel was one of the criminals and someone had brought him one of Frankenstein's shirts, he'd gotten that information out of Frankenstein's mind.

Raizel blinked and nodded. It looked as though Frankenstein's words had surprised him enough to jar him out of his guilt, at least temporarily. Frankenstein understood blaming yourself for not being able to stop the criminals – at least Raizel had clearly known there was a problem, unlike the oblivious Gejutel and Ragar.


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn't the manservant deception that made him fuss over Raizel.

He had so _little_. He had so much power, he could have traded it for riches in the human world, but he lived here and had no food, nothing but a handful of outfits. He stood by his window and that was almost all he did, bar a ritual of changing clothes, Frankenstein saw as he observed the noble over a few weeks. Had he even explored the rest of the manor?

Raizel had looked distressed when Frankenstein asked where the food was stored, before confessing that there wasn't any. He'd raised his hand to offer blood instead, and while Frankenstein remembered that taste, he didn't want Raizel to feel obligated to offer it as though it was his _fault_ he lived such a Spartan life with few pleasures. "I'm the one who has imposed on you," he said gently, pushing that hand down. "I'll find food, if you'll permit me to use your kitchen."

Raizel blinked when Frankenstein said kitchen. A noble's ability to absorb languages at work?

Had he _really_ never explored this manor and seen the kitchen?

Despite shaking his head over Raizel's strangeness, Frankenstein was not surprised to see the clan leaders when he stepped outside the manor. He'd sensed Gejutel's approach at quite a distance. Ragar was harder to detect even without summoning his soul weapon.

"Taking care of the shopping is part of a manservant's duties. There is not a scrap of food in that house," he informed them. Or rather, accused. He had a policy of going on the offensive with more powerful beings for a reason.

As usual, it put them off-balance. "So you intend to return?" Gejutel asked after a moment.

"It's not as though I'll be going far." He'd be scouting the surroundings while ransacking them of everything edible he could find in these woods. Or any kitchen gardens he happened upon. It wasn't as though nobles _needed_ to eat.

* * *

When he returned with a quickly-woven basket full of greens, eggs and other bounty (no kitchen gardens, at least not nearby. That would be both helpful and practical, and nobles weren't either), he found the pantry overflowing with… with…

He didn't even know what half of this _was_.

It left him vexed and embarrassed. Did he really know that little of the world outside his research and attempts to find out what was truly behind that organization and the vampire plague? How many centuries old now, and how much did he really know about the world outside of his particular corners? He knew far more about Lukedonia than he did about equally far-off human realms.

"It is the Lord's doing," Raizel said, walking into the kitchen while Frankenstein was still staring.

"Because he knows I'm here?" What was the message in this?

Raizel shook his head. "The Lord…" Frankenstein saw Rai give up, sighing. He raised a hand.

"There's no need to get rid of it," Frankenstein told him, guessing at the reason Raizel might be gathering power. "Some of it must be usable." Well, trying to figure out how one cooked those roots and tubers would give him something to do. He would have to set up some testing for poisons, a great many foods were inedible or unsafe unless stored or prepared properly, and this did not look proper.

* * *

"You… need this." Raizel waited after saying that. The same as when he said he'd sensed Dark Spear's hatred within Frankenstein.

He hesitated. "I want it. I am capable of surviving without it."

"The power over blood does not only affect humans and nobles. Do you dislike animals?"

"I found out I had this power when I accidentally turned a chicken into a mutant," Frankenstein said, failing to make a joke of it even when it _was_ a joke. "I'd rather not risk unleashing a larger, deadlier animal on innocent humans."

He saw Raizel realizing that he had pried. The noble turned back towards the window.

"You are allowed to ask questions," Frankenstein told him. "You've given me your blood: the least I owe you is an explanation."

Raizel turned back, with that puzzled expression that was somehow as endearing as Tesamu trying his hardest to be deliberately cute. "Without it, you are in pain. So it is what I want to do, not something that requires thanks. Humans have never owed nobles anything for aid. They are weaker than us, therefore it is our obligation." Then he frowned.

"I'm not weak compared to nobles," Frankenstein reminded him. From Ragar or Gejutel, he would have been insulted, but Raizel was… sheltered.

"It is still not something I do for thanks. It is something I do of my own will. I do not need food, not even as much as you need blood. Its absence does not cause me discomfort."

Frankenstein's eyes widened slightly. "I… well, it's no more work to prepare two meals than one, but… yes. I do it because I want to take care of you." He laughed. "It's strange. You are a very strange being, even for a noble, and yet… I feel we are alike, in some ways. I felt alone in this world. No other human has power like mine, and perhaps no one ever will, with the Union out there hoarding knowledge not to help humanity but to supplant it. You are also alone, the way I was. Separate from the people you want to protect. I want to make you happy. I want you to not be lonely anymore, because I am here. The way I'm not alone anymore." He realized he hadn't said this to Raizel before, not when Raizel spoke so rarely. His movements had the elegance of practice. His words… he was not used to speech. There was something so endearing about how he had to carefully pick his words, watching his steps trying not to stumble over his own feet like a clumsy puppy.

Ancient and wise in some ways and yet so young and innocent in others. It drew equal amounts of respect and the desire to nurture.

"I am no longer lonely, because you have let me stay here with you. I want you to feel that you are no longer alone in this world, because I am by your side."

He was accomplishing more than just introducing Raizel to tea and regular meals. He needed to investigate Lukedonia. Learn how to fight clan leaders and keep Dark Spear from consuming him in the process. Yet all of that was duty. "Taking care of you is my pleasure."

Raizel was _blushing_. Color in his cheeks, and for Raizel? That was utterly losing control of his emotions and his appearance. Frankenstein really had affected him.

He really did matter to this noble. This person.

Wanting control back, Raizel turned towards the window as Frankenstein smiled at him. Doting, yes. He was doting on Raizel. Content just to stand here and watch him be happy. To spend time not on work or research, but simply… for himself. Because when Cadis Etrama di Raizel was happy, he was happy.

Finally Raizel turned back to him. "I understand why humans… why humans will insist on giving thanks even if it was not done to incur a debt." He held up his hand. Frankenstein could see the slash in it appear, a moment before it bled.

"I hope that doesn't hurt," he murmured, taking the hand. "Si vales bene est, ego valeo. If you are well, then I am well." He pressed his lips to Raizel's palm. Slowly this time. Not with hesitation, but very deliberately.

It felt like a pledge. It _was_ a pledge.

For a moment, he wished that he could tie his mind to Raizel's permanently. That this sense of him wouldn't dim when the last of the blood drowned in his stomach. He could still sense Raizel even without the blood – now that he had someone to listen for, he was trying to learn how to use his psychic abilities for more than interrogation. Leaving them on instead of trying to turn them off so he didn't intrude.

No. It was a good thing he couldn't bind Raizel with blood. The last thing he wanted was to turn this strangely gentle being who cared so much for his honor into a mindless mutant. Raizel would rather die than attack the innocent.

They were alike in that.

"There is a myth, that once humans had two heads, eight limbs. The gods feared the power and intelligence of those humans, so they cut all of them down the middle. Without the strengths the other half of them possessed, with only half their good sense, the divided humans were weak, and had to spend their entire lives trying to find the parts of themselves that they were lacking, so they could be a whole person," Frankenstein said, heavily paraphrasing. "They could survive alone, but they didn't _want_ to. Perhaps because they knew that by themselves, they could be adequate, but with their other halves they could be truly great. Something went wrong in one of the changes I made to myself. There is a part of me that feels as though I _need_ to have my mind connected to another's, even though I can survive without it. When I have your blood within me, I feel whole."

Cheeks still pink, Raizel was touched. He held up his hand again, but seemed to realize that Frankenstein had just drank. So instead he pressed his palm to Frankenstein's cheek, to the side of his mouth so Frankenstein didn't need to stop talking. Red eyes and a tilt of his head asked if that was right?

It made his own red eyes smile, and he leaned his cheek into the hand for a moment.

"You are not afraid of me," Raizel said quietly, framed by his window as he stood with his back to it, looking into Frankenstein's eyes. "I thought that to live alone was necessary for the Noblesse, so others did not have to live in fear."

He laughed – mocking the nobles, not Raizel. Then his eyes narrowed. To hurt Raizel so? "If they knew you as I knew you…"

Raizel gave a small shake of his head. "They would know that I fear I will have to send many of them to eternal sleep eventually."

"Who?" Frankenstein asked. If Raizel knew who among the clan leaders had sinned, were their sins connected to the creation of vampires? Frankenstein suspected there was corruption among the clan leaders, but Raizel would know.

Raizel shook his head again, looking at Frankenstein apologetically. "It is information taken from their minds." The worst kind of prying. "It is my duty to know this, but I cannot violate their privacy any further. I am not permitted to take any action based on that knowledge save forcing them into eternal sleep."

"It is alright," Frankenstein told him. "I will continue to pursue my own investigation." He took that hand from his cheek to kiss it. "I have the greatest respect for your principles."

* * *

The first symptom that he was infectious wasn't hunger.

He had began to feel lonely.

Even in the middle of a crowd, with everyone thanking him for saving their lives. Even speaking with people who had been invaluable to him, whom he counted as friends.

It felt that there was something _missing_ , that it wasn't true fellowship, but somehow lacked the depth or reality that should have been there, if he had a true connection with them.

At the time, he thought that it was because inside, he doubted them. Or feared that they would fear him if they knew the full extent of what he had done to himself. He had been angry with himself, for thinking so poorly of them, not afraid.

He should have been.

Frankenstein knew that giving himself vampiric powers wasn't safe. He ran tests, to be sure he wouldn't harm the townsfolk under his protection. He was a doctor, he needed to be certain that he didn't react to blood. Even if he could keep himself under control, he needed to know the instant he began to react to it so that he could practice that control and be certain he would be able to focus in emergencies.

He used chickens. Keep a few breeding hens, and there was always a supply of the creatures. Taking a taste of the blood when he slaughtered one for dinner provided a regular test.

One day, he'd almost idly tasted the blood while the chicken wasn't quite dead, not yet.

That was his second mistake.

 _He felt it die_.

First its pain echoed through the link between them, and then he felt it go, the newly-forged link between them breaking, and the emptiness left behind!

When Frankenstein got control back he cursed himself. What had he been thinking, using the blood of dead animals as a test! He knew that vampires only craved the blood of the living.

He needed to do this properly. That was why he got another chicken, or at least that was what he told himself. He drew blood from it carefully this time.

He felt the connection form as he tasted the blood. He felt its fear and his heart went out to it, even though it was a chicken, and not a very bright animal at all. The void within him seemed to be filled.

It was easy to make the chicken sit by his feet as he recorded his notes. Worries about sorcerers and familiars aside, the ache within him seemed to be gone. He needed to isolate what caused him to experience discomfort unless he drank the blood of a living animal and formed this bond, of course. It was an unwanted side effect, and he wouldn't want others to be afflicted by it.

Yet perhaps… maybe a dog. If he could guide one and make it stay quiet, then it would be of assistance hunting vampires. They were affectionate, and loyal. He couldn't have one because he could not stand the mess, but if he could use this link to make it go outside to do its business?

Then the chicken refused to come out from under his bed the next morning.

Dragging it out into the sunlight, he felt its agony. Felt it crave blood so it could heal.

He had to kill it. He couldn't let it savage the flock, much less attack people.

This was why he didn't experiment on other people or living things, he cursed himself, looking at the body on the chopping block. Taking risks with his own life was one thing, but this!

It sunk in while he was washing the blood off his hands. He'd turned a chicken into a crazed vampire.

A dog would be larger. And _smarter_. What if it left the house while he was distracted and it was hungry?

But the emptiness kept _gnawing_ at him.

Once his friends began to die of old age, it was far worse. Fellowship didn't make the loneliness go away, but had it allowed him to remind himself that no, he was _not_ alone.

Perhaps that was why it took him so long to suspect the Union. By that point, it was hard to begin to think of anyone as a true friend, when there was always this barrier between him and them, one that he wished would go away. Even if he was the one who had decided that he would _not_ turn anyone into a vampire. It was hardly as though they were refusing him anything.

Yet the Union wanted more and more data, pushed at things he didn't want to give them because he was having trouble tracking down exactly what factor, or combination of factors, had awakened this hunger in him and was slowly changing his body around him, starting with his eyes and progressing to the skin. He considered trying to remove all the mental abilities he had given himself, but the ability to track vampires was vital.

Once he captured one of the vampires, the 'nobles' giving contracts to the Union and spreading the vampire plague? If they saw humans as toys, why not give them a taste of their own medicine? He could study them, the way he had vampires who used to be human, and perhaps find what part of their abilities corresponded to this hunger. Or what had gone wrong in the ability he gave himself, since they certainly weren't _compelled_ in any way to vampirize humans. It was purely born of greed, not a desire to connect to someone.

A taste…

What would happen if one attempted to vampirize a vampire?

He was going to execute them anyway, for the countless people who were dead because of them. It was the same sentence their own kind would give them, or _would_ if their rulers ever did their duty and made sure their subjects were obeying the law.

It was tempting to make the test subject watch, think that what they did to humans was about to happen to them, but he knocked them out first so they weren't awake to try to seize control of him.

He washed the upper arm, made the incision and placed the top of the test tube within the cut to hold it open until it filled. The scent and sight of blood itself didn't make him hunger, but watching the vial fill he found himself craving it, not even minding when a trickle of reached his white gloves. Careless, so careless of him, but the hope of relief? Of having something to fill the emptiness other than Dark Spear?

Raising it to his lips without even washing the gloves first, he took a careful sip to sample.

There was no bond clicking into place. The accidental power he'd given himself was unable to take control over the noble. So it was true that nobles could not be vampirized. If humans could be given that immunity, then they would be safe from the scourge.

This wasn't a mind he would wish to have bound to his, even as his servant. Shallow and selfish, with no respect for honor or others' lives. Weak-willed enough to think that it was alright to exploit human greed, when 'everyone else was doing it.' Yet they were another presence. Another living being, even if they weren't much better than that chicken.

It was not what he craved, but it was something, enough to quiet the urge within him.

It was also a potential interrogation method, something that would tell him something of the nobles he captured, and how likely they were to be among the criminals. Drinking blood was disgusting and debasing, the act of monsters, but killing two birds with one stone? Perhaps he could let them watch, and just erase that memory along with the other memories of their interrogation from the innocents he released.

* * *

Now that the Lord had told him of true contracts, so much was obvious.

He gained his powers from studying and attempting to safely imitate, then surpass, beings born of flawed, distorted, corrupt contracts. Because unaltered humans could not adequately direct noble power, errors crept in they were not competent to fix, if they even cared to do so.

Nobles _could_ wield their power correctly, and fix errors.

He didn't have nobles to study at the beginning, so he'd started out trying to imitate, to become more like, beings without proper control. His experiments were more controlled than their creation, but even mutants had _some_ link, however distant, to a noble who was regulating that power. They had that to help them, while they contained no power regulation mechanism for Frankenstein to copy. He'd tried to come up with his own means of power regulation, but of course they were imperfect when he was imitating imperfection.

If he made a contract with a noble who cared for him, they could regulate the chaotic power within him. Fix what was wrong with him.

He could have his own eyes back. When he caught glimpses of them in mirrors or ponds (and he did, despite his efforts) or had to examine them to track his condition he would see blue instead of noble red at best. More often vampiric red. The fangs and claws his body had grown in response to his subconscious turning the need for a contract into the want of blood could be turned back into ordinary canines and fingernails.

He could be _human_ again.

All he had to do was pour his blood into this tea and _hope_.

Hope for another gift from the noble who gave him sanctuary and saved his life. The noble who had given him blood to drink.

He, he should talk to Raizel about this, he should _ask,_ but his hands shook with stress and need and he did not want his emotions to pressure that generous being. Raizel was far too likely to give him anything he asked for. So he could not ask. All he could do was give him the option and, and try not to hope too hard.

* * *

He bowed his head before his noble master when he made the contract, and when he finally raised it to look at him he held his breath.

Cadis Etrama di Raizel reached out to touch his face. "Blue," he said in answer to the question he could hear in Frankenstein's heart.

Blue. _His eyes were blue again._

He buried his head in his hands. "Thank you," he said, wondering that he was shaking with gratitude for this, not for saving his life. But how could he be grateful that this exquisite being was closer to death now, because of his own failure? "Thank you, Master."

A laugh rose in his throat, at the irony of becoming a true vampire to be _human_ again.

* * *

Ragar examined Frankenstein, finally asking, "Is it acceptable to offer congratulations?"

He smiled, dwelling on the warmth within him for a moment. "Yes. All I knew of contracts came from the greed of the power-hungry, and the suffering of their victims. The Lord was correct: a true contract bears no resemblance to how those nobles perverted it. To take this and sell it for money and power, to turn something that unites souls into something that defiles them…" He laughed, and there was no flash of fangs. "Well, I was already sworn to slay them all."

Ragar nodded. The Kertia clan leader was an honorable noble: Frankenstein had taunted him and Gejutel with the fact he had only done what they should have done, but it was the truth. Ragar would have sent them to eternal sleep, if he knew how many humans suffered. "The Lord is wise. How appropriate for you to become the Bonded of Cadis Etrama di Raizel, when you already took his duty upon yourself. I will be honored to continue to assist you with your training."

"His duty as the Noblesse. To spend his life to slay clan leaders," Frankenstein mused. And smiled. "There's something else you can assist me with," he said, openly eyeing Ragar's neck.

Raizel's blood was his soul, and his very life, but Frankenstein hadn't taken that much, compared even to the power Raizel had left. Since Frankenstein had been forced to develop an understanding of blood, if he took a noble's blood he _should_ be able to strip away small pieces of their soul, and use that to patch up Raizel, at least until Raizel recovered enough that he could start to heal on his own.

It wasn't going to be difficult to get Ragar to hand over some of that blood, or Gejutel. And the Lord had _better_ cough up his fair share when this must have been his plan all along.

Ragar just blinked at him, relaxed and trusting and Frankenstein's fingers twitched. So getting his energies under control hadn't removed the urge to pounce nobles when they were stupid enough to leave openings.

Good.


End file.
